Thoughts of a Nod Recruiter
by Don Trump 4
Summary: Emil Kovac, a Nod recruiter on an infantry training installation during the Third Tiberium War, shares his misgivings with his companion. Oneshot.


Emil Kovar had his hands over the guardrail outside the Hand of Nod, watching the new batch of recruits practice with their weaponry on some makeshift dummies. They were generating plenty of gunfire, but Kovar could see that only a third of the bullets seemed to have hit their mark. Meanwhile the local instructor nearby was in the middle of a conversation with one of the officers, not giving a real care to what the recruits were doing.

Kovar sighed internally. The training at this facility was rather abysmal compared to his training. He died a little on the inside each time he watched a batch of newly-graduated soldiers leave the compound, knowing that their skills had improved only slightly than when they came in.

The facility itself was small, being a relatively isolated recruitment outpost in the middle of former Slovakia, in what is now Yellow Zone 1. The area itself consisted of the brown dirty desert that seemed to be everywhere. A Hand of Nod, a couple of towers, and comms facility nestled themselves into a clearing between some hills. Despite the remote location, it was one of Nod's recruitment and training centers erected in the wake of the Third Tiberian War.

 _Well, it certainly was a recruitment center_ , Kovar thought, _The training part is a different story_.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Feeling down, Emil?" A feminine voice asked him.

Normally her voice would soothe him. But not even she could dissapate the feeling of disappointment in his stomach.

"It's just this whole program, Tamara," he finally replied after a minute of silence.

Tamara Tesarik pulled up onto the guardrail next to Kovar. She was in relaxed officer uniform, being the comfortable black robes with an officer's insignia. Kovar, however, simply had a standard Nod BDU, minus the body armor.

Tesarik knew what Kovar meant. "It isn't that bad," she reminded him, "These people are simply eager to fight for Nod. We just need to speed up the training time to allow for more recruits to come in."

Kovar looked at her. "You know that's bullshit," he told her. "Can you tell me what you really think?" He softened his gaze. "We fought together in the last war. Don't I deserve your actual opinion on thinks?"

Kovar and Tesarik were put into the same batch of recruits during the second Tiberian War. While she managed to one-up him in about everything, including rank, they forged a strong bond that survived multiple battles. Whenever one had a problem, they always told the other. And Kovar wanted that to continue.

Tesarik lowered her voice. "I don't think Nod gives the regard to our soldiers like when we were kids," she confessed. "I've seen how the process works for this, and it just doesn't feel right." She gives a look of understanding to Kovar. "You're the one that recruits them. How does it feel to do that knowing what happens?"

Kovar was the base's recruiter who tried to get people to join Nod's ranks. He hated it. It wasn't like when he was a soldier when they got the best training available and weren't put into combat unless they were ready. All that really mattered now to his superiors is that Nod gets meatshields to throw at the enemy and hope that's enough to make up for any shortage of people with skill.

"Why can't we just train them up?" He asked Tesarik. "I mean, we've got to give them some kind of help, something to keep them alive a little longer. They're willing to throw their lives down by the millions for Nod. Why can't Nod in general do the same?"

Tesarik was silent, watching the recruits begin to make their way to some extra barracks by the Hand of Nod. After the last man disappeared she spoke. "I've seen the reports. Their average lifespan is less than 2 battles. We're just sending them to their deaths." She turned to him. "Didn't you try to steer some away from the infantry roles?"

Kovar began probing his own memories. He had indeed tried to convince some to switch to a vehicular of support role, anything that would improve their chances of survival. Those with bright minds, or ones that Kovar didn't want to imagine getting slaughtered by the automatic fire of a GD-2 rifle. He even felt pangs of regret for the thugs and brutes that wanted to go gung-ho with a machine gun on anything. Yet he recruited on for the Brotherhood, telling himself that it was for the greater good.

"Is there really a point to all this, Tamara?" he questioned her.

She seemed taken aback at the question. "That kind of comment could get you in trouble with the officers," she warned him.

But Kovar could sense that she felt similar about it, too. "We send kids to their deaths, promising an end to GDI tyranny and Yellow zone genocide. But if you ask me, we're the ones killing the innocent children by placing them in suicide positions." He paused. "Are the lives really necessary to be lost at that amount? Why can't we better prepare them for war, to make their sacrifices much more meaningful and to lessen the casualties?"

She took a deep breath of air. "I think you're right," she replied thoughtfully. "But I doubt Nod, or Kane, or anybody else, or even the recruits themselves, will want to change it. The Brotherhood needs ground troops on site as soon as possible. And the new soldiers want to get into action as fast as they can, and don't really care for training. It's an all-around fuckup," she added.

Her last comment took Kovar by surprise. He hadn't heard her curse before on this installation before. But she was right.

He laid his head on her shoulder. If only he could be as far away from this war as possible, away from the sacrificial lambs that are his recruits and trainees.

But he could not. The Brotherhood needed his services.

Tasarik and Kovar watched as another group of recruits were lead out by the instructor toward the firing range. The order to open fire was let out and the wild bursts of gunfire ensued.

"You think they'd come back from the war?" he asked softly, looking for any hope of reassurance that the youth of today would not be slaughtered in some Tiberium-infested wasteland.

He could feel Tasarik shake her head. "No."


End file.
